


Date Night 4: We’ll Go Camping

by LikeMeReckless



Series: Can’t We Be Seventeen [4]
Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-16
Updated: 2019-05-16
Packaged: 2020-03-06 08:34:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,457
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18847435
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LikeMeReckless/pseuds/LikeMeReckless
Summary: On the long list of trips she planned to take, this was never one of them. While a night alone with Jughead was definitely on the top of her bucket list, having that happen in the middle of the woods dropped the trip down a notch.





	Date Night 4: We’ll Go Camping

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much to @jandjsalmon for her amazing editing skills and opinions to help organize my wild and crazy brain! If any mistakes remain, they are without a doubt because I am a scatterbrain. 
> 
> The songs involved in this story are not mine! Credit goes to creators!  
> Radiohead- Creep  
> Bruce Springsteen- Born to Run  
> Nora Jones- Come Away With Me  
> James Young- Dark Star
> 
> Disclaimer: I also don’t own these characters. I just borrow them in between chapters of my novel when I am mad at the characters I have created or need a break!

On the long list of trips she planned to take, this was never one of them. While a night alone with Jughead was definitely on the top of her bucket list, having that happen in the middle of the woods dropped the trip down a notch. 

Betty was by no means a complete priss; she had, in fact, been camping before. She had even enjoyed herself. Her memories of sitting around a campfire with her father, toasting marshmallows and reading spooky stories were always something she went back to on her darkest days after he was first arrested as the Black Hood. She wondered how the same man who taught her how to reel in fish with so much laughter and love could really be the same man behind bars for murder. 

If she was being honest with herself, her father had a lot to do with why she wasn't as excited about this trip as she should be. Could she make new memories camping without feeling melancholy about her old life? Did she even want to?

No matter, she resigned herself to try since Jug had spent so much time gathering supplies and planning out this weekend for them. She smiled to herself just thinking about how proud he was when he secured a new tent from Mr. Andrews that didn't seal up old holes with duct tape. Her recollection of his smile and suggestive eyebrow wag brought her out of her glum and back to reality. Of course this trip would be fine- how could a weekend alone with her love be anything but fantastic?

Tossing on some hiking boots and grabbing an extra jacket, Betty surveyed the backpack and oversized duffle bag around her room. Eyeing up her supplies she conceded that she may have overpacked, but while Jug was a leader of a gang, Betty was the survivalist of the pair and wanted to make sure they were prepared for anything; trouble did seem to always follow them. Grabbing her duffles, and adding one more swipe of lipgloss for good measure, Betty left her room to head out for adventure.

As she reached the curb, Jug was waiting for her, truck packed up and playlist blaring from the old, slightly staticy speakers. 

"You all set, Yogi?" he asked her, taking the large bags from her shoulders.

She smiled and quirked a brow up at him in response. "If I'm Yogi, you know that makes you Boo Boo, right?"

With her feet perched on the curb and him down on the street, her height was perfect. Jughead strolled up to her and wrapped her in his arms, laying his nose against hers.

"Betts, I would literally be the Pinky to your Brain, the Tom to your Jerry, or the Etta Candy to your Wonder Woman as long as I could be your sidekick," he teased, leaning in to place a slight kiss on her lips.

Betty's chest swelled with emotion and her throat tightened a bit. For a moment, she thought her eyes would fill with tears, but she choked them back, choosing to focus on the feeling of his lips instead. How could she have even thought this weekend would be anything but perfect?

Pulling back, she smoothed her fingers through the hair at the base of his neck. "How about you be the Clark Kent to my Lois Lane?"

Jug gave one more brush of his nose against hers, before stepping back to load her last bag into the back. "Deal," he said, closing the trunk. "Just don't expect me to wear the tights. That's where I draw my line."

>>>>>

The ride to the campsite was not in comfortable silence. With the windows down, they sang along to the playlist that he had been carefully cultivating since his plan's inception. Currently, Bruce Springsteen's Born To Run was flowing through the speakers.

“Baby, this town rips the bones from your back. It's a death trap, it's a suicide rap. We gotta get out while we're young, 'cause tramps like us, baby we were born to run." 

They were both enjoying the release that came with being goofy and seventeen. Originally, he had asked if she wanted to invite Veronica and Archie and she had declined. Truth be told, his guard would never be down like this with them around. This Jughead was reserved solely for Betty Cooper alone.

"You have a nice voice, Juggie," she smiled, grabbing his hand over the center console. "You should sing more often."

Giving her hand a squeeze he flicked to the next song on the playlist. "I'll keep that in mind. Just don't tell Kevin- there is no way I'm participating in High School Musical take 3."

 

As the wheels smoothed across the pavement and the sun met the horizon, Bruce's voice continued to play. 

"Just wrap your legs 'round these velvet rims and strap your hands 'cross my engines. Together we could break this trap. We'll run till we drop, baby we'll never go back."

They had both stopped singing, listening intently to the words being spoken as if the universe was whispering a secret message to them.

Betty cleared her throat. 

"I still think about it, Jug. I think about taking off on your bike and finding somewhere warm and serial killer free to settle down..." 

Betty turned to stare off out the window, the afternoon sun painting warmth across her. Jughead glanced over briefly. The light shining through made her look like an angel and for a fraction of a moment, he considered just driving- not to their campsite, but to wherever the road took them.

"Hey- we're going to get out of here, Betty. Once we take down my mother and return yours to her senses, once we make sure JB has a life far better than ours with my Dad, we're going somewhere to make new memories."

Turning her face from the sun, she smiled back at him, one that was tinged with sadness and doubt for the future.

"We?" she spoke softly. "You promise?"

"It's always been 'we', Betty," he reassured her. "Where you go, I go."

The loud mandates of Bruce had faded from the speakers only to be replaced by the sweet, low voice of James Young. His Dark Star sang to them of love and longing and they fell into silence, fingers still linked, each passing mile erasing their old path and forging a new one, together.

>>>>>

They arrived at the campsite a little before noon. As they hauled their gear towards the space he reserved they had passed only two other tents along the way, both families who offered a small smile and waved as they passed.

"I know we could have just camped along Sweetwater River," he told Betty as he dropped their supplies to the ground, "but I figured that with our track record we should go to a certified spot where camping is designated as safe."

"That was probably a smart idea, Jug." Betty laughed, sitting to rest on the stump of a tree. "Somehow doing anything along Sweetwater River has lost its appeal to me."

"We should probably set up the tent now and then I found a hiking trail I thought we could try this afternoon. Are you up for that?" Jughead questioned.

"Sounds perfect," she added, standing from her perch and wrapping her arms around his middle. "So, what else is on this itinerary of yours?"

Jughead folded his arms around her back and slowly began walking her backward, pinning her between a tree and himself. "Top secret. I can't tell you."

Smiling up at him she moved her hands from his waist up to link around his neck. "I hope you left us some free time...for exploration."

With the rough bark of the tree biting into her back and his warm arms holding her steady, they kissed. It started off innocent, lips meeting lips, small tentative strokes and brushes merely saying hello in the afternoon sunlight. Quickly though, the light tease augmented into more, the gentle tease gone, replaced with a zealous force. His teeth found her bottom lip, dragging it between his own and her hands tangled tightly behind his neck, pulling him forward more firmly.

The squeal of a childlike, "Ewwwww..." snapped them out of their trance as one of the families from earlier walked by their campsite, breaking them from their hold. Breathless, he pulled back, allowing her to remove herself from the tree. Jughead waved an apologetic hello at the passersby and the parents just offered a knowing smile.

"Okay," he sighed. "Definitely need to get that tent set up." Gaining her composure she nodded in agreement. 

>>>>>

Setting up the tent went about as well as a dinner with Alice Cooper.

"Hand me the L shaped one?" she asked.

He bent to grab the rod off the ground, placing it into her palm.

"Jug, I said 'L', this is a 'J'. See the curve?" she jokingly chastised.

"Oh, I see curves alright," he teased back. "But, I don't see another rod."

"Well, either there's an 'L' somewhere or this 'J' used to be an 'L' which won't help us much," she added, trying to cram the two pieces together.

Stepping in her place, he grabbed the piece from her hand. "Here, let me try. My manly strength may be able to do it."

With a roll of her eyes, she stepped back and watched him force the two rods together, an odd pop sounding in the process. "My hero," she snarked.

They stepped back to look at their humble accommodations for the night.

"Is it supposed to be lopsided?" she asked, turning her head to the side to view it straight.

Jughead shrugged. "Dunno. Let's just hope there are no wind gusts and we should be fine."

Betty looked up at him, biting her lower lip between her teeth attempting to hold back a laugh. At her gaze, the hilarity of the moment washed over him as well and they dissolved into a mutual fit of giggles, hoping their tremors would not disturb their rickety sleeping quarters. After a few moments, their laughter subsided.

"I recall you mentioning a hike?" Betty asked, wiping the tears that had pooled in the corners of her eyes.

"Yeah. The trail is only about two miles so we should have plenty of time before it gets too dark to explore a bit," he said, rummaging around their bags.

Jughead's hands emerged from his bag with a printed map. He had marked off their campsite and drawn a path along the trail. He folded the map and placed it in his back pocket before once again returning to their bags to grab a tan, very full backpack.

She eyed the large sack that he was now wearing. "Are you really going to carry all of that?"

He shrugged and mumbled something about supplies and first aid before lacing his fingers through hers and pulling her towards the start of the trail. 

Most of their walk was spent in peaceful silence. The fresh air and the lush greenery around them provided a quiet haven to clear their minds and unwind. As they adjusted to a feeling of peace, nature adjusted to them. Squirrels scattered as they walked through the brush, taking their finds to hide away for next winter, already preparing. Betty could sympathize; sometimes she felt like she was always preparing for what would come next- the next blow they would be dealt. Admonishing herself, she pushed those thoughts from her mind, once again enjoying the afternoon sun. 

"Where does the trail go, Jug?" Betty asked, making light conversation.

He readjusted the heavy bag he carried as they climbed higher up the trail. "We’re actually headed to a spot about a quarter mile further for now and then you hike the same path back down." 

As they ascended, the path became steeper and more narrow. The sweet smell of spring was still fragrant in the air and the trees around them grew denser. The pine was so strong at some points that they could almost taste prickly pine needles on their tongues. A family of deer stood silent and still, watching them pass warily from behind a group of bushes. Slowly, the dirt trail gave way to more of a rocky path and the thick pines thinned, displaying a beautiful gorge, water cascading down its side. It was here that Jughead stopped, finding a clearing in which to place down the backpack.

"Jug," gushed Betty. "This place is absolutely gorgeous. How did you find this trail?"

He shrugged shyly, opening the bag to pull out an old worn blanket to lay upon the rock followed by some containers that appeared to contain sandwiches and chips alongside a package of chocolate chip cookies. Betty momentarily stopped gawking at the scenery to eye her boyfriend.

"Jughead Jones, did you pack me a picnic?"

Once again his response was a simple shrug of his shoulders. "What can I say? You bring out the romantic in me, Betty Cooper."

Betty walked over to wrap him in her arms once again. "Don't worry, Juggie. I won't let anyone know that underneath those suspenders and leather that you're a modern-day Casanova."

Jughead chuckled and moved to take a seat on the blanket, Betty sitting at his side. "I'm starving," he whined, digging into his Italian sub. He had ordered her turkey, her usual as well. 

For a while they ate in silence, listening to the rushing sounds of water and watching it cascade down the rocks in front of them. Betty found complete pleasure in watching a duo of chipmunks play a game of tag with each other at the trail's edge. After lunch, he surprised her by pulling a book from his bag as well.

They had both been reading Paradise at Betty’s request and talking about it all week. Last night he had snuck away her copy, hiding it in his bag to continue today.

"I was looking for that this morning!" she yelled, noticing her bookmark tucked inside.

"I figured instead of reading the next part solo that we could do it together," he confessed, scooting back to rest against a rock.

She followed his lead, sliding back into him, her back pressed tightly against his chest.

"Read to me?" he asked, fingers coming to link together in front of her stomach, chin resting on her shoulder.

Betty nodded and opened to where they left off, her voice light amidst the gush of the water. 

“Love is divine only and difficult always. If you think it is easy you are a fool. If you think it is natural you are blind. It is a learned application without reason or motive except that it is God. You do not deserve love regardless of the suffering you have endured. You do not deserve love because somebody did you wrong. You do not deserve love just because you want it. You can only earn - by practice and careful contemplations - the right to express it and you have to learn how to accept it.”

As she read his chest constricted. Was it possible to love something as much as he loved her? His whole life had been one bad hand after another, except for the moments that involved Betty. 

He remembered sleeping in their treehouse one night, his parents fighting again. JB had been so young that she had fallen asleep, oblivious to the turmoil brewing in their home. He couldn't take the shouting anymore or the names that were flung back and forth so he had snuck out into the night and found sanctuary in the first quiet place he could imagine. 

The air was cool that fall and he shivered as he curled up on the old creaky wood floor, willing sleep to come and erase the night. When he had awoken the next morning he found himself warm and rested. As he rose, a pink flannel blanket fell from where it covered him. He had folded it and placed it back on Betty's steps that same morning. To her credit, she had never mentioned it again, but from that point on there was always a blanket stored in the treehouse.

The sound of her voice trailing off pulled him from his memories. She closed the book, placing the bookmark back in place to mark her new starting point and tilted her chin up to look at him. 

“Do you even like this book, Jug?” she asked.

“Honestly, I like it when you read it to me. Otherwise… not really,” he confessed with a laugh.

She returned his chuckle and offered him a slight elbow to the ribs. In response, his head dipped, catching her lips between his own. They kissed slow and deep, not as a predecessor to anything else, but for the sake of kissing. Soft sighs were drowned by the roaring water in front of them as they drowned in each other. 

>>>>>  
Their hike back down had been uneventful. Neither had wanted to leave their private heaven, but the sun was beginning to drop in the sky and they wanted to be back before dark. Back at the campsite, they got to work preparing for dinner. He had kept their meals simple, not wanting to worry about spoiling food or temperature in the woods. 

Jug popped open the bag crammed with snacks and pulled out two styrofoam cups. 

“So, I hope you like Ramen Noodles because that’s what I packed. I figured we could handle heating up water without inflicting food poisoning on each other.”

“Mmmm sodium filled noodles from a cup. Has there ever been a more disgusting, yet delicious, treat?” she teased from the log on which she sat.

“Maybe Chef Boyardee?” he questioned, eliciting a mock gag from Betty.

“Okay, now you’ve taken it too far,” she joked back.

While he had rooted around in the bag, she had gathered stones and some sticks to create a makeshift fire pit. He reached into his back pocket to take out a lighter.

“Jug, What are you doing?” she asked.

Holding up the lighter to her he answered, “Starting the fire.”

She shook her head at him and rose from the log. 

“No way are you using that. We have to do it the real way or it doesn’t count,” she scolded him, picking up and feeling sticks along the ground, looking for a more pliable one.

Once she was satisfied with her choice she took off her left shoe and removed the shoelace, tying one end to each side of the stick. Jughead eyed her, perplexed by her actions.

“Are you building a bow and arrow to hunt me down some meat?”

She shot him a look that would silence any man and bent to choose another stick from the debris on the ground.

“No, I’m teaching you to build us a fire,” she huffed out, passing him the tools she had just assembled. 

Walking to her bag, she pulled out a small clump of something gray and stringy.

“Is that-“ he began.

“Dryer lint?” she finished, nodding in the affirmative. “It’s very flammable and will help speed this along.

She crouched down by the fire and helped him wrap the single stick through the shoelace, twisting it once to hold it in place. Betty began to move his hands holding the stick up and down, the stick rubbing against the shoelace. When he had the motion down she added the dryer lint to her pile of sticks from earlier.

“Just keep rubbing, Jug, and soon you should get sparks,” she explained.

“This is exhausting,” he complained. “Aren’t you going to help?”

She shrugged at him and said casually, “I need to save my arm strength for later…that is if you want other sparks besides that fire to fly tonight.”

Jughead went back to work, not another word about the state of his arms. Within minutes a spark flew and the brush caught ablaze. 

“Give it a little blow,” she explained. “It will help the fire along.”

Following her instructions, their fire fully came to life. Jughead put down the sticks and looked up at Betty, amazement shining in his eyes.

“This is why I picked you, ya know?” he teased.

“Because I can start a fire?” she asked, her face crinkling up in vexation.

“No. Because when the apocalypse comes, I’ll survive because of you,” he laughed, ducking to avoid the branch she tossed at him.

“Shut up and feed me, Jones.” she grinned, the corners of her mouth unable to help but turn up in amusement.

Their Ramen Noodles eaten along with a few peaches Betty had stashed in her bag, they sat side by side at the fire, toasting marshmallows for s’mores.

“Is it even camping if you don’t make s’mores?” she wondered out loud, pulling her marshmallow back from the fire and making a sandwich of chocolatey goodness.

While Jughead assembles his dessert, Betty sank her teeth into her own, a moan of slipping from her lips at the first taste of scrumptiousness.

“Oh my God! So, so good,” she moaned, pausing to lick some dripping chocolate from the side of her cracker. Midway through the kick, she realized her boyfriend staring her way, his own chocolate rapidly melting and ignored in his hand.

“Jug, you are wasting your chocolate! What are you doing?” she laughed, watching the marshmallow chunk down in clumps.

“I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I think I’m jealous of your food,” he declared, look of awe still on his face. “Also, if you make that sound again, you’re not finishing that s’more.”

Betty’s eyes twinkled with mischief in the firelight. Bringing the s’more back up to her mouth she licked up another dribble of chocolate oozing out the side, punctuating her lick with a drawn-out moan of delight. She pulled back her treat with a devilish grin still on her face, a trace of chocolate left next to her lip. 

Jughead watched her, eyes darkening with a predacious gaze before leaning over to place his lips over the stray chocolate still on the corner of her mouth, the tip of his tongue just barely making an appearance. Before she could register the contact his warmth was once again gone. He sat back on his log, gaze still holding hers intently. All it took was one breathy, “Juggie,” from her lips and he was once again mobile.

He rose and hoisted her up over his shoulder, ignoring her squeals and he dragged her into their tent and flopped her onto the connected sleeping bags.

“Ohhh,” she whined. “I dropped my snack.”

“Change of plans. New snack,” he replied, attacking her neck.

“Juggie, fire,” she whispered, voice throaty from his kisses.

“Yeah, me too, Betty,” he puffed. “So hot…”

She pushed at him now, her voice returning to its original tone. “No, Jug. The actual campfire. You need to put it out.”

Pulling back from her and regaining brain function he nodded in agreement. “Right. Actual fire bad. Betty fire good. Be right back.”

He darted from the tent to tangle with their campfire. From her cozy location in the blankets, she heard a few choice words and the sound of water being poured before she felt him spring back into their rustic lodging. He stood for a moment, eyes adjusting to the dark and taking her form in.

“Jug, get in here. I’m getting chilly,” she chastised, lifting the blanket to offer him space.

“Well, we can’t have that now can we,” he said climbing inside. “Besides, it’s time for s’more lovin’.”

“Seriously, Jug?” she scoffed. “How long were you waiting to drop that line?”

He faked mock agitation, hand to his chest, mouth aghast, before surrendering to a grin. “Kinda been saving that one all night.”

“Nerd,” she teased, pulling his lips down to hers, all fears of melancholy now far, far away. 

>>>>>

They awoke the next morning to the sounds of nature; woodpeckers hammering away, looking for food or craving attention from mates, pine warblers singing their sweet song while the wood thrush tweeted out part two of its three- part song.

“Mmm,” she groaned, burrowing her face deeper into his chest. “Don’t wanna go…”

He chuckled into the blonde mess that was piled on top of him, dropping a kiss on her crown and hugging her tighter.

“Yeah, I could get used to waking up like this,” he agreed.

Peering up at him with sleepy eyes, she shuffled up higher until they were eye to eye.

“I’ll get you a sound machine for your birthday with bird calls. Then you can wake up like this every morning,” she teased.

“You know what I mean!” he laughed. “I don’t mean bird! I-“ He stopped talking, shooting her a fake pout while she laughed. Those laughs were rare these days and he’d stand on his head to make them happen.

“You’re a wicked woman, Betty Cooper,” he teased.

As her giggles subsided, another feeling set in. One of complete contentment and completeness. 

“You know,” he began, running his fingertips across the curve of her hip. “I don’t believe you’ve given me a proper good morning yet.”

Arching an eyebrow she delved into his words. “Oh really? And what exactly does a proper good morning entail?”

In response, his mouth covered hers and his hands began an adventure of their own. As the rest of the forest awoke, ready to greet the day, they did not dare leave the tent yet, the thrush not the only thing singing a high pitched cry in the forest.

>>>>>  
At some point that morning Betty and Jughead reluctantly left the tent. Dismantling their love shack had been much easier than assembling it. 

“I still can’t get this ‘L’ or ‘J’ or whatever bar to dislodge,” he told her, pulling and twisting with as much force as he could muster.

“Maybe Mr. Andrews won’t notice?” Betty suggested, a disbelieving look on her face.

As they packed, the family from the previous day walked by their campsite again.

“Hey! Hey! Did you guys know there was a bear around!?” yelled the little boy who could not have been more than eight years old.

“A bear?” yelled Jughead. “Whoa! Did you see it?”

The boy, his face sagging with a glum look, shook his head. 

“Naw. We didn’t see the bear, but we heard a lady screaming real good last night and again just now and my Mom and Dad,” he stopped to point back at them, “they said she must have seen the bear that lives here!”

Realization washing over her, Betty’s face turned carnation pink, then flamingo pink, then strawberry, cheeks burning in embarrassment. Her hands came up to cover her face. 

“Oh my God,” she groaned, awkwardly looking over at the boy’s parents who were thankfully doing their best to avoid eye contact. 

“C’mon, Jimmy,” called the boy’s father. “Let’s allow them to get packed up.”

“Aww, Alright,” the boy sighed. “But keep your eyes out for the bear… and the moose!”

“Moose?” asked Jughead, regretting the word as soon as it left his lips.

“Yeah! The moose came next and scared the bear away!” Jimmy shared excitedly.

The boy’s father grabbed his arm and pulled him along. “Now, Jimmy. We have a schedule to keep.”

He waved goodbye and followed his father, Betty and Jughead still standing there mortified.

“Jug, I can’t believe they- were we that-?“ she asked, unable to finish a complete thought.

“Well, at least we got our dynamic duo nicknames out of it,” he joked, his attempt diffuse her embarrassment falling short.

“Jug, if you call me ‘bear’ you will never make that moose sound again,” she threatened.

“Duly noted,” he answered matter of factly, turning to pack up the last of their supplies.

>>>>>

The car was once again stuffed like a turkey and the truck’s wheels made tiny pops like kernels as they navigated over the gravel and back onto the main road.

“Would you come back again?” he asked, feeling lighter than he had in a while.

Flicking through the playlist to pick up where they left off, she settled on Creep by Radiohead, one of his favorites.

“Here? Yeah, I’d really like that. I knew I needed to relax and turn things off, but I didn’t realize exactly how much until we were out here away from it all.”

He nodded, drumming his fingers along with the beat of the song.

“I want you to notice when I'm not around. You're so fuckin' special. I wish I was special, but I'm a creep, I'm a weirdo. What the hell am I doing here? I don't belong here.”

“We can make a pact. When things get to be too much, you just tell me, or I’ll tell you, and we can come out here and get revitalized.”

“Deal,” she said. “One thing that’s easier when you have no parents to care about you is sneaking off for a weekend with your boyfriend. Guess there really is a bright side to everything.”

His hand found hers over the center console. He thought about trying to comfort her, but he could read her well enough to know that wouldn’t help. 

“Well, at least you didn’t have to get the ‘be safe’, ‘wrap it up’, and ‘be a gentlemen’ talk seven times before you left.”

Betty chortled at his predicament, picturing FP’s stern voice telling Jughead to ‘wrap it up’.

“He did not! Did he?” Betty chuckled.

“Oh yeah,” said Jughead. “I believe his exact last phrase was, ‘Just because you’re out in nature and the birds and the bees do it, doesn’t mean you have to follow suit.”

With that, her laughter doubled. “Oh, Juggie, I wish I could have seen your face!”

He began to laugh as well, his tale of discomfort providing levity once again.

The rough tones of Radiohead faded and were replaced by Nora Jones, her voice crooning ‘Come Away With Me’ sounded like a whisper of a promise to them both. 

“Come away with me in the night. Come away with me and I will write you a song. Come away with me on a bus. Come away where they can't tempt us, with their lies.”

“Jug?” she said, face deep and serious watching him eye the road as he drove. “Jug, I- thank you. Not just for camping, but for movie night and bowling and even that weird, weird poker night which we will never speak of again.”

“Betty,” he began, “you don’t have to-“

“But I do,” she interrupted. “I don’t tell you enough or thank you enough for all you do to keep me sane and to support me. But, I see it all, Jug.”

Silently, he kept his eyes on the road and his fingers laced with hers, flicking on the wipers to shed the licks of rain now falling on the windows.

“Come away with me and we'll kiss on a mountaintop.  
Come away with me and I'll never stop loving you.”

“Everyone else, Jug, my whole family gave up on me. But not you. You are the only reason I’m still standing, still breathing.”

Jughead’s pressure on the gas pedal slowed and he pulled to the side of the road, not another car in sight. He put the truck in park and unbuckled his belt, turning to face her fully.

“Betty, your family will come back. They aren’t as strong as you are. They couldn’t handle what you could. But, it will get better. As for everything else, you don’t ever need to thank me. You’ve been my rock so many times, like when things went down with my Dad sophomore year.”

A water droplet fell past her cheek, her eyes mimicking Mother Nature outside the car. “I love you,” she whispered, the sound muffled by raindrops on the roof of the truck.

“And I love you,” he replied. 

“Promise?” she teased, echoing her question from their ride up the previous day.

“Always,” he said, leaning over to press a kiss to her lips, one sealed with promise of the future and simpler times ahead.

He pulled back and set his belt back in place. With one last squeeze of her hand, he put the truck in drive and headed back out on the road, Nora Jones’ soft voice filling their silence with dreams of days to come.

“And I want to wake up with the rain falling on a tin roof, while I'm safe there in your arms. So, all I ask is for you to come away with me in the night. Come away with me.”


End file.
